


Dumb Mutt

by nataliefn



Category: The Collector Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Physical Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:01:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliefn/pseuds/nataliefn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arkin doesn't escape in the beginning of the Collection, instead he comes to a shocking realization.  Or in which Arkin gets a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dumb Mutt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nanjcsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/gifts).



> Important Notes:
> 
> I have a tendency to call Arkin "Scruffy Baby" but died it down for this fic but I apologize for the few that got away.
> 
> I have not reviewed this fic since I wrote it and there may be some spelling errors.
> 
> Also in this version Arkin does have a scar on his forehead from the got he sustained in the first movie.

Arkin looked out the window, at his freedom and froze. He knew he needed to move, to run, but he couldn’t will his body to do it. The girl, he reasoned, he needs to protect the girl. The Collector came back out of the room and looked to where Arkin stood. Apparently he didn’t understand why he hadn’t jumped either. Lifting his hand, the Collector crooked a finger at him. Arkin bit at his lip, glancing back out the window, he needed to run, he wasn’t going to make it much longer under the sadistic man’s rule. He’d hesitated to long, the merciless man strode across the hallway looking much larger while in his rage. Turning to do what he’d intended, Arkin made to run, to grab one of the dead bodies on the ground and get the hell out of dodge. That’s not what happened though. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, hauling him into the air before slamming him against the wall.

Arkin cried out in pain but let himself be manhandled into the other room. As soon as they entered the run down side room, Arkin was thrown against the trunk, not only knocking it on its side but causing both prisoners to make pained noises. The beaten down man, shrunk down, watching as the Collector paced the room a few times before stopping to stare at Arkin, instantly the smaller man froze. The look in his eyes was not one the other man had seen before.

Suddenly, the Collector was upon him, digging fingers into his arm harsh enough that Arkin thought it would snap into two. Pulling him along, the abused man was led through piles upon piles of bodies. The poor scruffy baby had to close his eyes so the sight of it all wouldn’t drive him more insane than he already was. Finally, they came to a stop outside, in the alleyway next to where his all imposing van was parked. Far enough away from traffic so it didn’t rouse any suspicion. The only people around were too homeless to matter or too drunk to care.

The hand let go of his arm and Arkin was pushed towards the main alleyway that would eventually lead to a road. Immediately he got confused, looking back at the Collector not understanding what he wanted from him.

When had that become his priority, to please his keeper?

First the Collector pointed in the direction of the exit, watching to see what Arkin would do.

Arkin got even more confused when the other man bent down to pick up a rock. Even as the stone sored through the air and smacked him in the jaw, he didn’t move, startled maybe but his feet remained planted. Sure his feet were facing his exit but his body was turned towards the Collector.

He moved quickly again, storming towards Arkin.

Instead of trying to flee, the abused man got down onto his knees, huddling to protect himself but not closing himself off completely. When hands closed around his arm again, he didn’t fight it, he let himself be repositioned, staring at the boot’s in front of his face. No matter how much he loved his master though, he couldn’t help the scream that ripped through him as his arm was twisted so harshly that the bone inside snapped causing an unnatural look of deformity. Not that the Collector would be pleased if he was silent, he didn’t like to be denied his pleasures.

As soon as his arm was let go of, Arkin cradled it closer, moving himself so he was practically wrapped around the other’s legs and boots. Ducking his head and closing his eyes, pleading silently for him to not have become bored with his existence.  
He whimpered with need at the hand that pet his hair not soon after and reached down to grasp his chin. Arkin didn’t fight as his head was lifted so his master could peer into his blue eyes. He himself couldn’t bring himself to look into the entomologists eyes. No, there could only be rejection, repulsion, he couldn’t handle that. Not when he was all he had left.

Tears started to flow freely out of his eyes, tears that had nothing to do with the physical pain, he’d endured so much worse since his capture.

“Shhh.” At the soothing tones, Arkin found the courage to look up and was taken back at what he saw. He started to practically sob, reaching out with both of his arms to get closer. That couldn’t be what he thought it was? He’d never seen that look before, not even from Cindy. The Collector cherished him.

Arms wrapped around him that were too tight but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, he needed every inch of himself against the other man. So that’s what the sad scruffy baby did, he buried himself into his keeper, gripping his shirt with his good hand and trying but failing to grasp him with his other. Another “shhh” was whispered into his ear as strong arms helped lift him to his feet.

When he opened the back doors to his van, Arkin obediently left his side and crawled into the van, surprised that he wasn’t being forced into a trunk. He curled up and waited, getting increasingly worried that his master wasn’t going to return for him. Although he wanted to be obedient and remain hidden, he couldn’t help peering over to watch out the window, staring at the exact spot that the Collector had entered the building at. Some part of him should have realized that this would be the perfect time to escape but the thought never even crossed his mind. The whimpers that escaped him were getting increasingly more worried and quite a bit louder.

Finally as if granting him a wish, the Collector exited the building lugging with him the trunk in which the girl had been shoved into. As much as he wanted to rush to the other man in happiness, Arkin knew he had to stay out of the way. He was rewarded once the box was situated with a hand tousling his hair, pulling painfully on the dirty strands.

Arkin spent the beginning of the drive next to the box where the girl wouldn’t shut up, she kept screaming, didn’t she understand what a gift she had been given. How could he have ever been so naive? Slowly he inched forward to where his master was driving, he startled when he got up to the front. He’d taken his mask off, probably so he didn’t raise suspicion the less broken shadows of his mind supplied. The poor thing found he didn’t want to look upon his face without the mask, what if the collector found it rude? He couldn’t stand for the other to be displeased with him.

Reaching down with one hand and not taking his eyes off the road, the Collector reached down and pulled at the strands again, making Arkin beam with pride. The rest of the drive to the hotel was much the same. One hand played with what used to be soft hair as Arkin rested his head upon his thigh, the rest of his body huddled against the seat, and soaked up all of the attention happily, he didn’t mind when the pulls elicited whimpers or when nails dragged painfully across his scalp, none of that mattered. Not even when the scar on his forehead was scraped again and again. What does matter is that he is loved.


End file.
